


Blood on the Tracks

by Saki (Albione)



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan, Eventual Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, M/M, Memories, More angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-01-27 16:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albione/pseuds/Saki
Summary: Sometimes loving means blood on the tracks.From filming Call me by Your Name to London 2019, Timmy lives through many emotions, each time there is one man involved, Armie.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 100
Kudos: 106





	1. Tangled Up in Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I am hoping Luca will film Blood on the Tracks based on Bob Dylan's album, since I love both. In the meantime, I thought of writing a story based on the lyrics. It is totally self indulgent, neither Timmy or Armie speak as they do in this story. Dates and places might be real, but the all the rest is my imagination.

We always did feel the same  
We just saw it from a different point of view  
Tangled up in blue  
Bob Dylan

07 April 2017

I did not feel any relief when the shooting had finished. Yes, it had been gruelling, but while all around me were happy to go back home, I was dreading it.  
Home from home, loving family, nice house full of friends and the man I love.  
The married man I love.

The Starbucks is open all night, I can sit and scroll social media, happy smiles all around.  
But I do not have the courage to ignore the incoming call.

“Timmy, where are you? Problems on set? I was going to prepare some pasta for dinner, but if you are back late, shall I do something that I can keep for you?”

His voice has a worried tone, like a brother worried for his younger sibling, a father that sees his son in danger. I want more, I am greedy.

“Sorry Arms, I forgot to tell you, going out with Kiernan this evening. Will be late…”  
The silence on the other side makes think he can hear the lie in my voice.  
I draw invisible lines on the table, follow the wood’s grain with my fingertip.

“Have fun, see you when you come back!”  
Breezy answer.  
Later.

I can still feel his skin against mine, the films of sweat mingling as we were laying on the bed. Kissing him, his stubble rubbing against me. I did not notice the cameras, the people or the room; just him.  
And I thought it was mutual.

He was married when we first met, I have no excuses. I first saw him when sitting at the piano, still tangled up in notes. Just glanced at him and fobbed him off. So I can recompose myself, the image of the tall man smiling at me.

Meet his beautiful wife, we all got on so well.  
We did, before I became Elio.

I get back to his pristine home after midnight, I am quiet as I close the door behind me, take off my shoes and switch on the light. I have a free day tomorrow and I need to plan how to stay out of the way.

“Timmy”  
His voice is low and sweet with a slight hint of hurt. He is standing against the french windows, the light from the garden behind him. He is a large shadow; he has been for a long time, a shadow over me.  
“Still up Arms? I am sorry about this evening, I should have let you know…”  
I am mumbling, embarrassed, guilty, all the feelings crash over me.  
He just nods and reaches out to me.

“Wanna smoke?” I vaguely see he has a reefer in his hand. I walk towards him, easily avoiding the furniture; I have been in this house a small amount of time, but I have memorised everything.  
Because it is his, his world, the space he moves in.  
His world where I am a guest. In the future I can picture him exactly where he is when I do not see him.  
If I lose him, I will have all the memories.

It is cool outside, we stretched onto the deckchairs in silence, he lights the smoke, inhales deeply; I stare at the ember, orange in the dark.  
The illuminated pool is a beacon of blue light, moving shadows ripples across us.  
He hands me the reefer and I take it. I feel the wetness of his saliva on the filter and roll it across my lips.

I feel the grooves of his lips with the tip of my tongue.  
The insects are loud, the people around us are silent as I move onto Oliver. The kiss Elio takes from Oliver. The grass pokes me, keeps me in the present, I am not Elio, Armie is not Oliver.  
His taste.

I inhale and my head is filled with smoke.  
I want to be lucid, I fear what I can say if stoned, but I have managed to be good. Till now.

“I love this Oliver” I giggle.  
Armie snorts, “All of this?” is muffled.  
“It is almost like Crema, us sitting outside and sharing a spliff, the silence interrupted by distant traffic, insects attracted by the light…”  
Just the two of us, the only people in the world.

“But it’s not Crema…”  
I do not know how such a large man can have such a soft low voice.  
I nod, he probably did not see.  
Yes it’s not Crema. Probably Crema never existed, only in my dreams.

“Nic and I are going to trek tomorrow morning, will you join us?”  
His voice is stronger, louder.  
I have met all his friends, nice people, he has eased me into his life, fitted me among those close to him. 

I want more, I am greedy.  
“Depends on what time you are leaving... “  
“Timo, you are a lazy one! It will not be too early, come on!”  
I turn to look at him; his expression is so sweet I want to cry.  
“Ok” I mumble. He smiles at me.  
The water in the pool moves, the wind is picking up.  
We are both rippling shadows, blue tangled shadows.  
Tangled up in blue.


	2. A Simple Twist of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crema, a bike ride and feelings.  
Back to the start, where memories are bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos!  
I love all the Bob Dylan fans there are.  
As usual, this is a figment of my imagination, I don't know these people, yada yada...

She was born in spring  
But I was born too late  
Blame it on a simple twist of fate  
Bob Dylan

Crema, 30 May 2016

After the thunderstorm the air was clean, as if a window had been opened in a stale room. The cobbles glinted in the orange lights. I felt cold.  
“You are trembling Timmy, want to borrow a sweater?”  
“Nope, it would be a dress on me!”  
Armie laughed, his pointy canines almost glinted under the street lights.

“Where shall we go? Get a pizza and eat in?”  
I was tempted, how much longer did I have? Elizabeth and Harper would be arriving soon; I had hours not days.

“Nope, let’s cycle to that trattoria along the canal Luca took us…”  
“The energy of youth Chalamet, after a day filming you want to cycle?”  
“Sorry old man, I didn't think a day sitting around waiting for the rain to stop was that tiring.”  
I lightly punched his arm; I wanted to caress it.

The look of horror on his face made me laugh; I shrieked when he grabbed me and started tickling me.  
“Geroof! Arms you too big, not fair” I folded in half, his hands are so big that they can circle my waist.

“So young one, go and get your bicycle.”

We rode in silence, the city was quite quiet, not many crazy car drivers.  
“Luca will have a fit knowing we are cycling at night, imagine if we get hurt!”  
“I will sell it as neo-realism, no need for makeup for Oliver’s wound!”  
We laughed at the thought of Luca’s reaction. Open laughs in the empty street.  
The trattoria was open and we sat in a corner. We ate and talked.

“I will be so upset that I cannot legally drink back home” I poured another glass of wine; I was feeling light headed.  
“Are you telling me you don’t have false ID?”  
“I said legally!”  
I took a sip of red wine.  
“Back home it’s just cheap cocktails during happy hour or crappy beers.”  
Armie smiled and ran his finger along the rim of his glass.  
“When you come to visit us in LA I shall treat you to good wine”

“Us” I know, you do not need to remind me all the time.  
Your wife, your daughter. Us.  
There was no me in that us, and I felt so alone.

We rode back, the streets were deserted; I was going as fast as I could. Armie was, for once, behind me. He usually was faster, those long legs worked the pedals well.  
I just wanted to go back to the flat, I felt like crying.  
“Timmy, wait!”  
His voice filled the street, the words bouncing along the buildings into my ears.  
I turned, he was standing in the middle of the street holding his bike.

“Did you fall off?” I stopped and dismounted, waiting for him to catch up.  
“No, just wanted to take some photos” He was holding his phone.  
“Typical Americano tourist!”  
I thought he blushed slightly.

At my front door I turned again, not wanting to say goodbye, grabbing at the seconds.  
“Shall we have a beer?” I mumbled.  
“Sure” 

I loved watching him sitting on the battered sofa in my flat, his knees up to his chin; everything looks small in proportion..  
I sat down next to him and passed him a bottle. I watched him drink, his Adam’s apple moving hypnotizes me. 

“To think that Shia was going to play Oliver….”  
It was a trick of fate us being here.  
“I had actually met Luca years ago and was hoping to be cast in one of his movies, but when I read the script I was unsure…”  
“Why?” Of course, I would have accepted anything, I just wanted to work. But this movie just pulled at something in my soul.  
But maybe he was right.

“I donno, I was afraid of opening up something. Of not being able to go back…”  
Armie looked at the ceiling while absentmindedly swinging the beer bottle.  
“It was Liz that convinced me in the end, I wonder…”

The silence stretched and I felt so tired, I started to nod off, I felt an arm circle me and rested my head on a strong chest.

It was past two when I woke up, alone.  
I went to the window and opened it, smelled the night air. I felt so empty inside.  
As I walked to my bedroom I saw the note on the table

“See you tomorrow, we can go exploring after work!  
Arms”

I smiled, I wanted to cry.  
As I went to set the alarm for the morning I saw an instagram notification.  
Armie had posted a new photo.  
Me riding the bike in an empty street.

I know I felt too much, too much love, too much pain. Is it a sin to love him? Was it a sin to have been born too late to have met him before he married?  
Why did I not avoid this twist of fate where we did meet to late?


	3. You're a Big Girl Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berlin, different cities, same feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments and kudos!  
This chapter has been a bit difficult, I am not 100% happy with it, but the more I tinker with it, the less I am happy, so I am setting it free.  
As usual, I do not know these people, as much as I would love to, all this is a figment of my imagination, bla bla bla...

I'm going out of my mind, oh  
With a pain that stops and starts  
Like a corkscrew to my heart  
Ever since we've been apart

Berlin,13 February 2017

The jacket was beautiful, a rich colour and the texture of the suede was fine and soft; as I admire myself in the mirror a voice asks:.  
“Where is lil Timmy Tim now?”  
Will was sitting on the bed tying his shoes, I hit him with a rolled up programme.  
“Ouch Chalamet, that hurt!” He rubbed his head with exaggerated vigour and I smiled.  
Will can always be counted on to make me feel better; he was the only reason I survived the last days of filming in Crema last year.

And now, to see Armie again. It is less than a month since Sundance. But it feels longer.I have been going out of my mind since we were apart.  
When I looked at the photos taken I am surprised on how soft and quiet I look. Where is Lil Timmy Tim indeed, a discarded mask I had tried on for a while.

All my fears have twisted into a knot in my gut, I stare at the row of photographers in front of us and feel Armie next to me.  
“So Timmy, you look straight ahead and then turn towards the other photographers at the sides” He is pointing and showing me how to deal with the photocall, I nod, but I can only feel his hand on my shoulder.   
I feel the pressure, and all my clothes peel away to what we were when filming, his hand on my skin.

As my crying face disappeared from the screen the lights go on. The public is clapping and I turned to Andre “I can only hope that we did it a shred of justice” I needed his approval, because his story is now mine. 

I am Elio, but Armie is not Oliver.  
He is near but not close.  
The emotions on Elio’s face was not acting, he was in a room somewhere nearby. But he was as far as Oliver was from Elio.  
You don’t need an ocean to be distant, a wife will do.

With the cast it feels home, but I am only looking at Armie, feeling shy.

At the press conference, I felt him behind me as I was going to sit, and, without thinking, I reached out my hand to him and felt the fleeting touch of fingers. If I could tell him everything just by my fingertips.   
I could have died then and there and it would have been perfect.

I smiled at the public, but really there was only one person I was smiling for.  
I feel so exposed talking about the movie, as though I am showing too much of my feelings. The summer romance that changed me; how crying in front of the fireplace was easy to do.  
He was there, he was never there. It could never last, the filming had to end.   
I am telling the world my feelings, but I am only doing it for you. Hope you can hear me.  
What a shame what we shared cannot last.

It is the 13th of February, tomorrow I will hear him talk about his wife, will witness Valentine’s sweetness, I will die a bit.   
Love is simple, anniversaries, public declarations of love, marriage and family. You always knew it, I am learning it now. It hurts.

Love is a pain that stops and starts.  
A corkscrew to the heart.  
Dinner was a sweet interlude; talk and laughter, Armie sitting next to me was almost like Crema. The same people in a different place.  
I could close my eyes and pretend I was back to the never ending meals in good company.

“What are you thinking Timmy?”  
I smiled at him “Nothing” I replied.  
He knew I was lying  
“His face shows all emotions,” he had told the world about me in wonder.   
I turned away, he lightly squeezed my knee in reassurance, such a simple gesture; we seem to search each other with casual touches.   
I blush.  
I hope that all my emotions were not too easy to read, or, I hope they were for him.

After dinner Will and I walk through cold wet streets, I thought love was simple, but I am a big boy now and know differently.  
“Shall we get wasted Timo?”  
I smile at Will and nod.   
I am a big boy now, I can make it through.


	4. Idiot Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rome again, the scene of a hollow victory and the aftermath of a battle lost...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments! This strange fic is such an angst fest I am glad there are readers...  
Short and emotional chapter, but the next one will be more satisfying...  
As usual, I do not know these people, and, as much as I would love to know them, I am sure they are happy NOT to know me!

People see me all the time  
And they just can't remember how to act  
Their minds are filled with big ideas  
Images and distorted facts  
Even you, yesterday  
You had to ask me where it was at  
I couldn't believe after all these years  
You didn't know me better than that

Bob Dylan

Rome, 7 September 2019

My phone keeps on showing me notifications. I want to curl up and disappear.   
The things I do, the battles I lose to win the war.  
And yet, he called, hurt and disappointed.  
How could he, doesn't he know me after all these years? The reasons why?

“Timmy, what is that mess? I can’t believe Nicole was ok with it”  
I wanted to scream that all his loving husband acting is just as messy. 

He is the reason why.   
He is an idiot.

“You know why, you know very well.” He was silent.

I don’t remember a moment of peace, even on set I am trying to be someone else, someone better.  
I am so many different things for everyone. People treat me differently now, they don’t know how to speak to me.  
Who am I?  
Who was I?  
The boyfriend, the Oscar nominee, the son and brother, a friend, a heartthrob… a secret lover.

I cannot remember your face any more, your smile, your eyes looking into mine.  
I am waiting for you, “Give me time” you said when we kissed.   
I wanted to be her, but I am me, and what was good was bad, what was bad was good.   
“Wait for me, it’s complicated…” you said when we were lying in bed. I nodded.  
I am waiting, but time is running out. 

They are planting stories in the press, someone has it in for me, but I know who.  
I know why.  
It was meant to be the usual outing, a young couple in love. But I was an idiot.   
Now I am a laughing stock.  
She wanted to hurt me and those I love, she wanted to make me pay for not adoring her, for not playing along. I hurt her, I understand.

Her team organised it all. “Short holiday, a couple of photos of you holding hands” they said.  
But as soon as I was on the boat I knew it was going to be different.   
Could not push her away. Not with the photographer there.  
She won a battle.

“You don’t know the hurt I suffered…” I told him, his eyes don’t look into mine.  
You don’t know the pain I raise above, but I don’t know about yours.  
“I am sorry” we both say at the same time.

“Things are going to change for the better” The Tarot reader held the Wheel of Fortune and I wanted to believe her.   
I left the building and pulled down my cap.   
The wheel goes up and then down, where am I now? Can it get worse?  
We are all idiots, but I am the biggest idiot, willing to lose every battle to win the war.

I walk down back streets, remembering the other time with him.   
Always the spectator with a secret shared and an idiot smile plastered on my face.  
I always end back to you.

I remember each cobblestone, where I took photos of you, where I managed to smile as you picked up your wife.   
Fountains and monuments, an old city full of stories, full of idiots like us.   
An idiot wind blows and freezes me to the core.

Elio and Oliver said goodbye, and were separated for twenty years.   
And us?  
Rome, my ghost spot, not only one place, the whole city, every single brick and cobble stone. Rome, that gave me so much and then took it away before I was ready.  
A short time of euphoria before starting to act the part of friend again.  
Rome, where the war started. Where the first battle was lost.


	5. You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rome again, the first time. The beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love for this work! More angst, of course, but we will see what happened in Rome the first time.

I've seen love go by my door  
It's never been this close before  
Never been so easy or so slow  
I've been shooting in the dark too long  
When somethin's not right it's wrong  
You're gonna make me lonesome when you go  
Bob Dylan

Rome, 23 January 2018

I knocked on the door, fear and hope filling me.  
“Leave me alone” he shouted, your words slightly slurred.  
“Armie, please let me in…” My voice was low, but I know he heard me, I could hear him walking towards the door and open it.

He was so beautiful, even with red eyes and dishevelled hair.  
“What do you want?” He sounded belligerent.  
“Nothing, just to be with you…” No truer words did I ever utter.  
He let me in and I sat on the edge of the bed as he collapsed onto the elegant armchair. Bottle of whiskey nearly empty on the side table.

“Bastards, fucking bastards, they put both of us forward, idiots… I am going home, coul’dnt care less about this stupid press tour….”  
He was rambling, angry with fate; he looked small and I wanted to pick him up and carry him with me.  
I went to him and knelt in front of him, hands resting on his strong thighs.  
“You are right to be angry, you can go home, but I will miss you.”  
I looked up at him and he must have read my soul.   
His hand caressed my face, a gentle touch that undid me.

I was back in Crema, I was in his home, he was in my flat, I was in Berlin, I was everywhere with him. His fleeting touches all converged into that caress. 

The first kiss we shared was being others, this was the first of ours. Slight, tentative and afraid. I don’t care who started it, it was no competition.  
We both knew that there was no turning back.

The touch of our bodies was not the same as in Crema, his skin was colder and harder, mine more pilliant and paler.  
Our clothes peeled away and I discovered his body again; I remembered everything as my fingers mapped a known continent.  
The bed was large and I felt small in his arms, almost lost.

My affairs had been bad, Verlane and Rimbaud, all ended sad, but there is no comparison.  
This time love is right on target.

This longing was worth the wait.   
I opened my body to him, taking the pain to pleasure; he opened his heart to me, full of hurt and guilt.

I felt all of him, I closed myself on him, he filled and I took. We exchanged throughout the night.   
“Wait for me” he muttered, I have for years I wanted to shout. But I was silent.  
I must have nodded, he sobbed.  
We embraced, afraid it was a dream and dawn would break soon.

I found out that the longing was not only mine, but he was better at being good.   
“When you greeted me for the first time and I saw all your emotions crossing your face I knew I was in a dangerous place” he confessed.  
I kissed him. I could have stayed with him like this forever. 

The first time we made love did not feel a first; it was a natural conclusion to a story as old as time.   
Skin speaks the truth, the trembling and moaning gave all the confirmations, free to explore and share pleasure without a public around us.  
Free to be us and not pretending to be others. 

Time must have passed, we lay entwined both talking about our feelings, but avoiding the things that would take us back to reality.  
But time has no pity for lovers.  
“She will be here soon…” The pain in his voice hurt me more than the words.   
“Wait for me” he pleaded.

I will be lonesome when you go. Staying far behind you and watching your back while waiting.  
Yes, it will be lonesome without you and seeing you everywhere.   
Walking behind you and watching, hoping for a secret shared second, snatching moments when we can.

Tagging along with a smile, we are all friends, nothing to see.  
It will be lonesome.


	6. Meet Me in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toronto, a mess and decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but workwise this period is mental! I am trying to write the big bang, that hopefully will be out in time for Christmas...  
Thanks for all the comments and love!

They say the darkest hour  
Is right before the dawn  
They say the darkest hour  
Is right before the dawn  
But you wouldn't know it by me  
Every day's been darkness since you been gone  
Bob Dylan

Toronto, 10 September 2018

“Meet me at the corner of Younge St and Asquith”  
There was no time on the text, but I knew it was early morning, very early.

Starbucks look the same all around the world, comforting I suppose. He chose a corner seat, large as ever he folded into the space. His smile was tired as he looked at me.  
We had been silly last night. Very.  
But everything had gone so well, seeing him again, kissing him again, sleeping with him again.

“I told her” he whispered in my ear as I hugged him last night. In that moment there were only the two of us.

“Timmy, did Nicole speak to you?” His voice was low, he frowned at the coffee.  
I nodded.   
I felt I was struggling through barbed wire, each movement was a cut in the flesh, a break in the heart.

“So, we pretend nothing happened? We are just bros that are living their own lives?” I think my voice broke at “own”.  
“I will have to show a happy family front. Holidays and relatives. But the lawyers are starting to work things out. It will take time.”  
He didn't look at me but I heard the “Will you wait for me” hanging in the air.

“I have agreed to hang out with Lily, her team seems to be eager. You a happily married man, I dating a model… and us? What are we?”  
He rested his hand on mine.   
We sat in silence, there was something on his mind. There was something on my mind.

“Timmy, I know that it’s difficult, and I understand if you want to walk away from all this, you are so young…”  
I felt sick, all the drinks of last night came to haunt me.  
“Armie,” I really wasn't sure how to say what I felt, but I had to say something.  
“I am doing it for myself, for what I want. You know what I want, and I am ready to wait.”  
A small smile flickered across his lips. I wanted to kiss him.  
And yet, I could not. Such a small gesture was forbidden.

I watch his back as walks away. 

The evening stretches and I watch the sun go down from the hotel room. You have left once more. 

I watch the sun go down sinking like a ship, like my heart when you kissed me for the last time this morning.  
Hidden.  
As something sordid and criminal, a kiss between lovers.

We held each other last night, we tried to tell the world how happy we were.   
But nobody was ready, not even us.

“The darkest hour is right before dawn” you said before you walked away.   
Every time you are gone it’s the darkest hour.   
Every time.


	7. Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallas, an event and a guest...  
Catching small seconds to keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! It is an angst fest, but Bob's album is as well...  
This song was difficult to frame into the story, but I hope I have managed to keep the tone of the original in some way.  
As usual, I don't know these people, it is all a figment of my sick mind...

Rosemary combed her hair and took a carriage into town  
She slipped in through the side door looking' like a queen without a crown  
She fluttered her false eyelashes and whispered in his ear  
"Sorry, darlin', that I'm late, " but he didn't seem to hear  
He was starin' into space over at the Jack of Hearts  
Bob Dylan

Dallas, 26 October 2018

Will walks in front, very quiet. I can read his back, he is uneasy and unhappy.  
I am sorry to have asked him to come with me.   
But I need him.

“You know she’s there as well, don’t you?” His voice was flat.  
He hates all these lies.

“So, since you are not going to the party, wear this wristband.”  
Lily handed me the pass, I could feel her anger as a wave washing over me.  
The Hollywood princess used to get what she wants, except her parent’s attention. She misbehaved without having paid for anything, but she couldn't have my interest.  
“Why are you obsessed with that man?” It drove her mad.   
I could never explain.

I was an unknown experience for her, but she knew I was out of reach.  
I was sorry that I could not give anything to her, it was all fiction, and it could never be true.  
“You are going to see him…your luck will end sooner or later,” she said.

“Here we are!” Will looks at the building and takes photos.  
“I am not going in, will wait for you outside. Good luck!”  
I nod and walk the few meters towards the door; each step a mile.

Elizabeth is waiting for me at the door. Her face is flushed and she seems unsteady.  
She grabs my arm.  
“Before you go in we need to take a selfie” her voice is slightly slurred.  
Guilt flooded me, I knew she had been drinking more, realising that she was only playing the role of his wife. 

She had loved him, in her own way, but her way wasn't his; they shared so much, but spoke two languages, both had grown, but in two opposite directions.  
I wasn't the cause, I was the effect.

I pose and make a silly face. She seems happy with the result.

As I entered the hall there he was. In his dinner suit he was the most handsome in the room, my Jack of Hearts.  
We walked side by side, close, not daring to touch, all eyes on us while we looked at the floor.  
I could feel him in my space, I wanted to taste him.  
Be patient my beating heart was telling me.

“I am glad you managed to be here”  
His eyes smiled promises. “Wait for me”  
I heard Elizabeth’s voice behind me, a bit too loud and forced.   
Armie’s smile faded.  
“Wait for me”

I pretended to slip away, I knew he would follow me, just to snach a moment away from prying eyes. There was no better actor than my Jack of Hearts, perfect husband and father.

Will is sitting on a low wall, where I had left him.   
I know my lips are reddened by a stolen kiss or two in a bathroom stall.  
I left the Jack of Hearts and his wife sitting at their table, thinking of me.

We walk back to our hotel in silence, Will hates all the lies, he knows how much I hurt, but he cannot see all the pain that ripples from me and submerges all those around. He thinks I am only a victim; doesn't realise that I am also the executioner.

“Your luck will run out sooner or later” Lily told me.   
It did the day I met the Jack of hearts for the first time I should have replied.  
But I remained silent and walked away.


	8. If You See Her, Say Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We had a quarrel, as lovers do..."  
Timmy alone in Budapest moping as usual...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!   
I intend to write more, and regularly, this year, fingers crossed.  
Thank you for the love for this story!

We had a falling-out  
Like lovers often will  
And to think of how she left that night  
It still brings me a chill  
And though our separation  
It pierced me to the heart  
She still lives inside of me  
We've never been apart  
Bob Dylan

Budapest, 22 June 2019

Everything hurts, and I don’t know why.  
No, not the filming, it is all I wanted, the part I desired. Probably sold a piece of my soul for it.

Everything hurts and I know why.

We had a quarrel, as lovers do.  
In the bed, still warm with the sunlight filling the room.  
“If you are tired of waiting, I understand. There is so much to untangle, the kids are my priority…”  
I watched his lips, the words were noise, his eyes told me everything.

We had a falling-out, as lovers do.  
“I am not tired of waiting, I am tired of nothing moving!” I shouted.   
All the pain in my heart just spilled.  
And to think how we left each other still brings a chill to my heart.

I sit in an empty cafe looking at my phone, seeing him in other people’s lives.   
A loving father and husband.  
I am tempted to send a text, but if he is happy, good for him.  
The thought almost undos me.

“Timmy, I cannot give you what you need, not now…”  
His face was so distraught it pierced me to the heart.  
I have always respected him, for the man he is, and I will not stand in the way of what he needs to do.   
But the bitter taste lingers still from the night I tried to make him stay.  
All the “I am sorry, I didn't mean it this way” I repeated throughout the night. All his “Timmy, I am hurting you and you don’t deserve this” he replied each time.

Even though we are separated, we have never been apart, he lives inside me; when I hear his name I have learned to turn it off, close myself.  
But each beat of my heart ties me tighter to him, squeezing my soul with his memories. His voice, taste, smell, touch and face; I cannot, and do not, want to erase them.   
I hold onto them as the only things that keep me sane.  
I look at the photos, old and new, us smiling, he looking tired and I looking into a distance.

As I got dressed we didn't talk; he lay on the bed looking at the ceiling. As I opened the door we did not say goodbye, did not share a kiss.  
“I will wait Armie” I said.  
He nodded as Atlas with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

This city is familiar but foregn, I have learned to be by myself again, not the actor, walking and thinking, remembering the past.  
Sunset and I replay every moment of us till the last; our own personal reel of longing and pleasure. Of loss and pain.

He might think I forgotten him, I need to let him know it’s not so. My hand is steady as I pick up the phone.  
We had a quarrel, as lovers do.


	9. Shelter From the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The man that this man is…”  
Austin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love this self indulgent fic!  
We are nearly there, and Timmy will be playing Bob in a biography, I feel there is another fanfic ready to be written about New York in 1961 and a young musician meeting a tall blonde poet...

Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost  
I took too much for granted, I got my signals crossed  
Just to think that it all began on an uneventful morn  
Come in, she said  
I'll give ya shelter from the storm  
Bob Dylan

Austin, 8 March 2018

I said more than I should have, I wore my heart on my sleeve and showed it to the world.  
“The man that this man is…”  
Keeping back tears and words. Ready to tell the world what I really think of him, that I love him.  
Rambling.  
Alone on the stage, not looking at my notes, not looking at the public.   
“The man that this man is…” Is the man I love.

It is the end of an era, there are no longer excuses to be together, travelling and living a suspended existence where only we count.  
I will grab these last hours and make them last while I am away in London.

It is another city, another hotel room, the same pain in my chest.   
He stands tall and beautiful by the window, looking out at something that’s not there.  
“Come” he tells me and hugs me.  
My shelter from the storm of life.

I was exhausted, the Oscar night was still too close, full of hope and realism.   
I had brought my innocence and was treated with scorn.  
I got the headlines and was hunted for more.  
He kissed me and all the pain washed away, he ran his fingers through my hair and I moaned his name.

As we made love there was no words, everything that was unresolved was left outside the door. A wife he didn't love any more, two small children he adored and a mother that had always been disappointed in him.  
I hugged him harder as he mumbled words of passion and pain and reassured him that I was his shelter from the storm.

“I feel that when I saw you that morning my life would never be the same, I feel safe and vulnerable with you.”  
Did I say that or did you? It was true for both.  
We lay entwined, noses touching and fingers tracing.

“I will miss you when I am in London, when will you come and visit me?” I kissed him again.  
He was silent and I felt a wall come between us, I took our moments for granted, but maybe it was all ending this night, the end of the affair.  
I said the wrong thing in my greed for more.

“Timmy, I want to but… I can’t. I really can’t, I can’t get away…” He sat up suddenly.  
His voice was in mourning, the pain on his face as though he was walking barefoot on nails.  
“Ok Armie, I understand, no worries”  
I must have sounded so forlorn that he opened his arms “Come here” he said.

Yes, it was the end of an era, no more excuses to be together, a last stolen moment before months of separation, but, “the man that this man is” is worth all this and more.  
We embraced so tightly as to fuse into one another.  
I wanted my end to be his beginning, to have a piece of him wherever I was, to be with him forever.

I will be living in a foregn country and walking on a razor edge, hoping to make him mine one day.  
I will be working and will just be able to talk to him, not touching for months.  
I will meet new people, some will be friends and others just colleagues.

There will be dark days full of doubts and insecurity, like walking in a black mud and slowly sinking.  
I will look at photos of him smiling and happy with his family and think I am forgotten; then a text or a call from him will lift me up.

And when things will be difficult, I will turn back the clock to this moment when he opened his arms and was my shelter from the storm.


	10. Buckets of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London, The King premiere.  
"Armie was supposed to be here..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... The end!  
Thank you for reading this small story. I hope the ending cheers you all.
> 
> As usual, as much as I would love to know them, I don't, and I am sure they are happy of that. It is all a creation of my charmie brain.

Life is sad  
Life is a bust  
All ya can do is do what you must  
You do what you must do and ya do it well  
I'll do it for you  
Honey baby, can't you tell?  
Bob Dylan

London, 4 October 2019

Brian and Nicole are angry with me; Lily is fed up. Buckets of rain are falling down, another city, another hotel, another premiere.

I loved the crowds, the fans, and when one asked “Are you going to see Armie’s film tomorrow?” I just couldn't stop.

“Armie was supposed to be here tonight…”

He was, “Please come to the red carpet, we will get out of the car together, it will be fantastic!”  
The silence at the other end of the phone should have warned me.   
“Timmy… I can’t”

“... but he had to work…”

“But we will see each other in London, won't we?”  
I could hear the twinge of desperation travel across continents.  
“Yes, of course we will”

People all around me, whispers, compliments and lies. I smile and pose, all parties are the same except when he is there.

I see him walk through the room; lights low music loud.  
I like the way you move your hips, your smile, your fingertips (when they touch me), I like the cool way you look at me.  
He is so handsome I feel like screaming “He is mine!”  
Howl to the world, but I stay silent, we will leave together, that’s all that counts.

“I am not doing the interview tomorrow, probably won’t do the talk either. I need a rest before the flight!” I have been meek, but I am hard as an oak when I tell Brian and Nicole.  
I don’t look back as I leave the club without waiting for their arguments; people arrive, people disappear, but if he wants me, I will be here.

I climbed him like a tree, “You little monkey!” he laughed and kissed me.  
“I ain’t no monkey, but I know what I like” I muttered as I nibbled his ear.

Buckets of rain in the street, buckets of tears when I am alone.  
I love the way you love me, strong and slow.   
We took all the time, I had time for once.  
Let them all be angry with me, I do not care.

The bed is a mess, the rain covers all outside noises, we are in a world of our own.  
“We have reached an agreement, we just need to decide when to announce the separation, she wants to wait for the ten years. I am sorry…”  
I nod, I am happy, there is an end in sight.

“You do what you must, you are doing great sweetie!” I giggle, I hug him, I kiss him.  
“I will wait for you, I’ll do it for you”

I can wake up tomorrow morning and he will still be here, in my bed (or his bed, our bed, a bed).  
Life is sad, life is a bust, buckets of tears have been shed, but he is close to me and that’s all that matters. 

“I am taking you with me to Korea!” He looks at me smiling and nibbles my nose.  
“You are always with me”  
Yes, we are always together, time zones have never interfiered.

I will deal with all the problems tomorrow, I don’t care if everyone is angry with me.   
I feel him against me, his breath on my face as I run my fingers through wiry hairs on his chest.   
I feel him beside me, inside me, me.

People in my life have come and gone, friends and colleagues, it’s life.   
But he is never going to go, if I can help it.   
How can he? He is me, I am him.

Buckets of rain outside but there will be no longer buckets of tears.  
The finishing line is close and we have both won the war after losing every single battle.  
Older, scarred, bloodied but together.

I hold him tight in a foregin room, all different, all the same since our first time.   
Each and every one of them has been ours; but now we can plan the future and not steal moments that had to last months.

“Always with me, always…”


End file.
